Authors: Katherine Vickery
Roderick was not blind to the change in his brother. It was not like Richard to be so quiet. “Has a cat taken hold of your tongue, brother?” he finally asked.
Thinking of Saffron, Richard winked at his brother. “No, though a cat very nearly was the cause of my death at the hands of an angry mother. Do not doubt that a broom can offer a man a threatening fate.”
“A broom?”
Richard told his brother all, baring his soul to the man who had shared his joys and torments since they were both babes. Brother Stephen laughed with him and cried with him and offered a sympathetic heart.
“And so you love her?”
“Yes. I never thought it possible to love a woman so much. It’s as if we lived in another time, only then we were blended into one person. I feel as if I have searched my whole life to find her, as if she is the other half of myself.”
“Are you trying to tell me that you believe as those in the East do, Richard, that we have many lives? I must caution you on such a thought. You do not want to be called a ‘heretic.’”
Richard shook his head. “No, I don’t believe in past lives, but if I did I would want to have lived every one with her by my side.” Richard’s heart was already at Greenwich with the gray-eyed beauty.
For a moment there was mischief in Brother Stephen’s eyes, as if he were suddenly transported back to those days when they had bedeviled the countryside with their pranks. “Perhaps we should change places, you and I, as we did when we were young. I would have a look at this Heather of yours. You can be ordained priest and I will console this woman you love.
There was no smile upon Richard’s face. “I would not give Heather up, not even to you, brother.”
“You make me believe that love really does exist,” Rafael said, coming up behind the two brothers. Somehow Richard did not mind that the Spaniard had overheard his words. There was something about him he liked despite his manner of self-assurance.
“It does. Believe me.”
“Ah,
amigo
, I have thought so myself, only to find disillusionment. I have made love with many beautiful
señoritas
, only to find that they are like gilt, golden on the outside only. Beneath the surface they are as nothing.
Nada
.”
Richard laughed. “Be patient. Love will find you.”
They walked much faster now, anxious to reach the inn before the shroud of night descended. The only sounds were the clip-clop-clop of the horses passing by, the soft whir of the wind, and the soft clatter of pebbles striking the cobblestones.
Coming to a bridge that was missing several planks, Brother Stephen, stumbling over his long black robes, nearly missed a step and would have fallen into the water if not for the quick wits of Rafael Mendosa, who reached out his long arm to clutch at the priest in the nick of time.
“You saved me from a dunking,” Brother Stephen said in gratitude. They reached the other side of the bridge, lulled into a false security by the sound of the water lapping against the rocks, the quiet of the night, and the fresh scent of the night air. Suddenly from behind the bushes came a giant of a man, his shiny bald head glistening in the moonlight.
“Your purses, gentlemen!” He brandished a sword, waving it about to signal for the others of his band to come from hiding.
Richard counted six men in all. Like their leader, they were huge men. “I hope that you have not boasted frivolously, Rafael,” he shouted, reaching for his sword. “We have need of your skills tonight.”
The Spaniard did not answer, but reached for his own weapon, swishing it through the air with an amazing agility.
“Ah. A priest. Papist dog,” shouted a flame-haired bandit. He flicked the point of his sword to lift up the hem of Brother Stephen’s habit. “He wears a skirt. Like a woman.”
“A skirt!” laughed another. “Say your prayers, priest.”
Still another circled around Richard’s brother, seeing him as an easy target. Brother Stephen looked about for help, but Rafael and Richard were already occupied, Rafael with one robber and Richard with two, one at his front and one at his back.
Breathing in a deep sigh, the priest looked from one scraggly robber to the other. This was not the time for weakness. “I am your obedient servant, my sons. Let me pray for you.”
Riotous laughter broke out. “Pray. The priest wants to pray for us. What think you, lads? I would say that we should pray for him,” said one, coming closer.
Determined to do everything he could to avoid shedding blood, Brother Stephen stood calmly before them as the sound of blade upon blade sounded behind him. He watched as Richard wounded the man to his right and thrust against the bald man who came at him with a knife. The robber, incensed and kicking out frantically, seemed intent on drawing Richard’s blood.
“Dear Lord, be with my brother,” the priest whispered, clasping his hands together. “And with Rafael.” Closing his eyes, he reached for his crucifix, only to feel it yanked from his hands and cast upon the ground.
“Here’s what we think of you and all your kind, papist!” snorted one attacker.
Brother Stephen cried out, “How dare you so abuse God’s badge!” Whirling and whirling, he struck out with his wooden staff, proving himself to be a fierce combatant until at last he had two men on the ground and one taking to his heels.
Finishing their own battles, Richard and Rafael looked upon their traveling companion with awe. “He has no need of us,
señor
,” Rafael said with a laugh, watching as all the robbers made their hasty exit. “This priest fights with valor. It will be a long while before those
hombres
think to prey upon one guarded by Cristo.” He nodded toward the fleeing forms.
Brother Stephen smiled sheepishly. “Shall we go into the inn? I think that we will be safe, at least for tonight.”
Richard pulled open the heavy door of the tavern, the Cap and Crown, remembering that time when he had met pain outside its doors, the pain of an assassin’s blade. He wanted peace for England now. Peace and freedom. Was it too much to ask? He tried to shake off the fear that Spain posed a danger to these ideals, but found it nearly impossible. The feelings against that country ran high. The fight tonight had proved as much. What would happen if Mary did indeed marry Prince Philip? Would the people of England then shout her name in praise?
The inside of the tavern was crammed with sailors quenching their thirst and loudly telling tall tales, making other conversation nearly impossible. Ordering three ales, Richard sat in silence, deeply troubled. Despite the fact that he liked him, this Rafael Mendosa could mean trouble.
“Tell me more about Heather,” Brother Stephen said, tapping his brother on the shoulder in an effort to tear him from his musing.
“Roderick..” Richard began, forgetting once again to use his brother’s holy name, “you must help me. I cannot stay married to one woman when I love another. I want to marry Heather and have children to carry on our name. Surely God will be on my side in this.”
Brother Stephen pondered for a time, then smiled. “Perhaps if I sought an audience with the pope. That is it! I believe there is hope. Give me time, Richard, to think on this matter. I desire with all my heart to see you married to this Heather or yours.” He grinned, looking like Ricahrd’s younger brother at that moment and not like a priest. “I want nieces and nephews to bounce upon my knee.”
“And I will give you many if you will but help me undo these ties. My marriage is a mockery, as you well know.”
“I will do what I can,” his brother answered, his eyes showing the sympathy which he felt very deeply for the way their mother had so betrayed her own flesh and blood. “After I am made a priest at Canterbury, after I am truly Father Stephen, I will do all that is possible to free you. You will gain your freedom and take Heather Bowen to wife. Be patient.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
A light drizzle fell on the occupants of the old wagon as it lumbered along the muddy road, its wheels churning slowly through the mire.
“Fool nags!” Perriwincle shouted. “Move your arses.” From time to time he would whistle loudly and jiggle the reins in an attempt to hurry the horses. “Sorry, Mistress Heather.”
Clutching her cloak tightly about her shoulders, Heather shivered. “I’m in no hurry to reach home.”
The old man looked at her askance. “You’ll catch your death, you will, if I don’t get you back.”
The sky was dark gray and a downpour seemed imminent. He watched as Heather sat staring at the road, her teeth chattering from the chill of the damp air.
“Home. Oh, Perri, that is the last place I want to go right now. If I had my way we would stay in this wagon and drive to the ends of the earth.”
Slowing down the wagon, he looked over at her. Seated beside him, her hands folded demurely in her lap, she looked a pitiful sight, her red hair curling about her face from the damp mist, her face etched in misery.
“If I had me way I would take you there, but I don’t think you would like it. You belong here with the people who love you.” He flicked at the reins again, urging the horses on at a quick pace. “Your father’s a bloody fool to give you to that Seton rogue.”
“I didn’t know that you knew!”
“Ha, that’s all the old fool has talked about these past few days. I had half a mind to beat some sense into his fool head, and will if you but tell me to.”
Heather took hold of his arm. “No, Perri. It would only cause you trouble. I will handle this in my own way.”
“You will not marry him?”
“No. I will never marry Hugh Seton. I love another.” She lowered her eyes from his searching gaze.
“Richard Morgan?”
“Yes.”
“I knew it!” In his excitement he let go of the reins for a brief moment, nearly sending the wagon into a ditch. At last, recovering his hold, he guided the wagon up the familiar path which led to the stables. He sat in silence as his conscience pricked him. There was something he had to tell her, but he didn’t know how to begin.
“Father will most likely deal with me harshly when I tell him.” Heather murmured, “but I cannot give myself to a man I don’t love, especially after….” Blushing, she turned away from Perriwincle, having spoken too much.
“After lying in the arms of the man you do love,” he finished for her.
Her eyes were wide as she gazed at him. “How did you know?”
Now it was his turn to blush. “Because I…I…I acted as cupid.” His words came out in a frenzied rush. “I knew you loved him, and he you, and…and your father….He is such an old miser. I wanted your happiness. I…I thought that if only you two would make love to each other, he…he would take you with him. But bloody damn. It didn’t work out that way, and…and I’m sorry!”
“Cupid?” Heather was confused, totally baffled by Perriwincle’s babbling. “What on earth are you trying to tell me, Perri?”
“Red sage and summer savory,” he blurted.
“Red sage and summer savory? Herbs, yes, but what have they to do with all this?” The wagon pulled up in front of the stables, but she held on to his arm to keep him from jumping down off the wagon. There were questions that needed answering. He must finish what he had started. “Go on, Perri, I must know.”
“A love potion, it is. Potent, they told me. Red sage and summer savory. An aphrodisiac. I gave it to Morgan the night before he left.”
A shocked gasp escaped from Heather’s mouth. “An aphrodisiac?”
“Aye.” He took her small hands between his large callused ones. “I’m sorry, Mistress Heather. Forgive me. Forgive me. I meant you no harm. I only wanted the best for you. I thought he would take you with him, I did. I thought he would marry you. Forgive me.”
Heather did not answer him; instead she started laughing. “Poor Richard. He never knew. And me, fool that I am why did I never guess?”
Thinking her hysterical, Perriwincle sought to calm her. “It will be all right. It will be all right. Forgive me.”
“Forgive you? No I shall not. I shall thank you, Perri. In my heart I will always thank you.”
Now he was certain that she was daft. “Thank me?”
She was all smiles now. “Yes. He would have gone away without ever showing me what love is.” And she had blamed him, said so many terrible things to him, when he was the most noble of men, her Richard. He loved her, but thinking of her, of her virtue, he would have left without ever showing her the sweet nectar of passion, if not for Perri.
Her smiles were contagious. Leaping from the wagon, Perriwincle felt light of heart. “Then he loves you. I knew it.” Reaching for her hand, he helped her down from the wagon just as Thomas Bowen came out of the house.
“Ah, Heather. My darling daughter has arrived from court.” Beaming from ear to ear, Thomas Bowen strode forward with a jaunty air. Seeing the smiles upon Heather’s and Perriwincle’s faces, he joined in their merriment, then barked, “Perriwincle, see to her trunks before her things are ruined. They cost me a fortune, after all.” Taking her arm, he led Heather toward the house. “Rain. Abominable rain. How I hate autumn.”
Entering by way of the back door, they were met by Tabitha, who quickly took Heather’s wet cloak and Thomas Bowen’s hat. “It’s so good to have you back,” the blond-haired servant girl whispered.
Heather was silent, looking about her at the walls that had been so familiar while she was growing up. Now they looked foreign to her eyes.
“Well, tell me about your adventures at court, my dear,” Thomas Bowen gushed. “I knew that sending you would be a wise investment. Just think, it will be my cloth upon the queen’s back when she is crowned. My cloth. Mine. Why, I even bought a new carpet for my solar with the profits. Come and see.”
So my mother finally has her new carpet
, Heather thought. It made her happy to think that Blythe would now be content. Following her father up the stairs, she looked about her and could see the changes in the household. New furniture, a few paintings on the walls, wall hanging, all proved Thomas Bowen’s prosperity.
“Look. See. It cost me nearly a fortune, but it was worth it. Nearly all the nobility have them now. This one comes for Persia.” He gestured toward the floor, where a brilliantly patterned rug adorned the wooden floor. “It makes the house warm as hot buns with the fire lit, even in the dampest weather.” Kneeling down upon his hands and knees, he stroked it with affection. “Feel it. Bend down and feel it.”